


Flowers in Your Hair

by a_static_world



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier
Genre: AU, Falling In Love, Flirting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sam Wilson Needs a Hug, Sharing a Bed, Travel, flowers in your hair, the government is racist, tropes tropes tropes!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:20:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23086162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_static_world/pseuds/a_static_world
Summary: “What’s keeping us here, man?”“What?”“What’s keeping us here? We could go- we could go anywhere, somewhere they couldn’t find us, somewhere they wouldn’t need us, for fuckin’ once. Somewhere they don’t beat you for being ‘too self-assured’.”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Comments: 15
Kudos: 106





	Flowers in Your Hair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [linenandlustrous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/linenandlustrous/gifts).



Needless to say, the government was less than happy with Sam Wilson being appointed Captain America. For racist, classist, elitist reasons that made Bucky’s blood boil just to think about. So they stripped Sam of his shield, raided his fucking apartment in the middle of the night. Took it by force and left Sam bloodied in their wake. 

Bucky woke up that night to knocking that sounded like gunfire in his dreams, to Alpine meowing in the way that meant  _ it’s Sam _ , but why would Sam be here and he opened the door and oh. Sam was shifty-eyed and wild and bloodied and  _ who fucking did this, I’ll find them, I swear I will.  _ But Bucky only opened the door wider, already moving to find his first-aid kit when Sam spoke, groaning as he lowered himself to the couch.

“What’s keeping us here, man?”

“What?”

“What’s keeping us here? We could go- we could go  _ anywhere _ , somewhere they couldn’t find us, somewhere they wouldn’t need us, for fuckin’ once. Somewhere they don’t beat you for being ‘ _ too self-assured’ _ .” 

Bucky forced himself to breathe, because it sounded a  _ hell _ of a lot like Sam Wilson, Captain America, was asking him to run away. And okay, maybe Bucky had a history of following the suit through hell and back, but he found himself caring much more about the men underneath then the world ever did. 

“Vienna.” Muttered, real low, face still bent towards the emergency kit and decidedly away from Sam’s wrecked (very close) face. 

“What’s that, cryofreeze?”

“I said  _ Vienna _ , birdbrain. Always wanted to go, seemed so...peaceful. ‘Course, Steve was never willing to take a break, but now that you’re propositioning me, why not?”

Sam’s answering smile (and subsequent wince) were all Bucky needed to quell any remaining nerves. 

They bought two one-way tickets to Vienna, scheduled a car rental, dropped Alpine and Figaro at Pepper’s, and they were off. 

And they made it, roughly fourteen grueling hours of try-not-to-get-recognized-slash-detained later. 

“You drooled on my  _ shoulder _ , Wilson, you’re worse than that baby the lady sitting next to me had.”

“What, so when an infant drools it’s endearing, but when the new face of America’s Ass does it, it’s gross? Seems jarringly hypocritical of you, cryo.” The look of comic betrayal on Sam’s face forced a laugh out of Bucky, jarring in the staticky noise of the surrounding train depot. 

“Okay, okay. You got me, it was adorable, now can we  _ please _ get a sandwich before I starve in this classy-ass station.” Bucky almost missed the gut-punch look on Sam’s face before he agreed. 

Almost.

“Oh, you have  _ got _ to be fuckin’ kidding me.”

“What, whassamatter, sumfin’ wrong?” Bucky, hotel keycard in between his teeth, slammed straight into Sam’s (broad, toned, frankly incredible) back and. Yep. His thoughts exactly, as he stared at the single king bed smack-dab in the middle of their quaint, otherwise cozy hotel room. Of  _ course _ there would only be one bed. He was already wearing Sam’s spit; might as well share a bed. Bucky groaned around the keycard in his mouth.

“Did you schedule the reservation? Cause I’m pretty sure that this was your part.”

“Nuh uh, Thnap. Thith wath all you, and now we gotta ‘eal wif it.” 

Sam only slung his bag down on the right side of the bed (the side closest to the door, like he knew-) and moved to the bathroom. Bucky was too tired to even deny him first dibs to the shower, and opted to promptly pass out on his side of the bed, shoes on and keycard still clenched in his teeth. 

He woke to soft hands pulling his boots off, sliding the keycard from his mouth, readjusting him on the bed. Bucky grumbled what he was pretty sure was passable thanks, only dimly aware of the bed dipping as Sam slid in before falling back asleep. 

The sun woke them the next morning, Sam swearing about forgetting to close the curtains as Bucky stretched. 

“Mornin’, sunshine, how’d you sleep?” 

Sam, sleepy-pissed and haggard, only glared.

“Too damn poorly, with your knees in my kidneys all night. We’re gonna have to ask for another room.”

“Fine by me, sugar, but the lady down front said they were all full up. I even tried to charm her with all the German HYDRA pumped in me.” Bucky tried for a roguish wink, but ended up blinking slowly and crustily at a defeated-looking Sam, who, bless him, looked like he might actually still go down and ask. More of Steve in him then he thought, Bucky realized.  _ The stubborn never goes away, damn it.  _ Bucky stretched again, realizing he’d been staring at Sam, who was (thankfully) too busy staring out the window to notice. Clicking his tongue, Bucky finally exited the warmth of the bed and began to dig through his bags for a toothbrush and the baggie labeled “Day 1.” 

“So, Snap,” he said, throwing his hair back one-handed as he triumphantly held his clothes aloft. “What’s on the itinerary for today?”

Sam shook out of his reverie, a grin spreading wide and easy across his face. 

“Well, Barnes, let’s just say I’ve done a lot of research.”

Holy shit, “research” was right. It was their fifth museum, it was only 2:00 PM, and Bucky’s thighs burned as they hiked down yet another cobbled road in what Sam had called “Old Vienna.” 

“Old Vienna, my ass, I’m too used to being the oldest thing around for this kinda history.”

Sam had only smiled, grabbing Bucky’s elbow as he tripped over a loose stone in the road. At least his age hadn’t taken away his ability to swear with dignity. Or blush like a drunken sailor. 

Bucky squinted up at the octagonal dome of their next stop, head already a blur of art and artifacts and golden objects (though, if he was honest, he quite liked the look of Sam amongst the finery. Kind of.) 

“Whassa name of this one?”

“The, uh, Cunst-his-tor-ee-ches Museum”

“Oh, give me that. Kunsthistorisches. Art history. You are literally taking us to a museum named Art History Museum.”

“And? I thought you loved art.”

“Oh, I do, Snap. Trust me. But I think it’s time we  _ experienced _ what made all those artists...art.”

Sam snorted, laughed in a way that was wild, and unrestrained, and Bucky couldn’t help but notice the way he already looked younger, lighter, away from all of the chaos. But he only squared his jaw, grabbing Sam by the hand and tugging him toward a sign that read  _ Taxi.  _

“Okay, enough surprises, Barnes. Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” 

Twenty-one minutes later, across the Danube, Sam and Bucky stepped out of the small taxi to the scent of flowers. 

“I did some research of my own, Wilson. Welcome to the  _ Blumengärten Hirschstetten _ , which contains themed gardens, a zoo, and a playground for all the kiddies.” Bucky cast a glance at the quiet park, seeing only a few couples scattered on blankets throughout. 

“Okay, so maybe fewer kiddies than I thought. Also, I totally memorized that on the way over here, so be impressed.”

Bucky wheeled around, grinning, only to find Sam already started across the gardens to a small, flower-covered hill labeled  _ Dies ist zum Rollen _ .  _ This is for rolling _ , Bucky realized, as Sam raised a hand to wave him over. 

“C’mon, slow poke, let’s roll.”

And Sam was off, tumbling end-over-end in a way that made Bucky’s stomach swoop, like  _ he _ was the one that had just thrown his very human, very unenhanced body down a small hill in a foreign country. 

So, of course, Bucky rolled too. 

He collapsed on top of Sam, wheezing, laughing so hard his sides hurt. Sam was breathing heavy under Bucky, who flipped over to pin him down and oh. There were flowers in Sam’s hair, caught in the curls he’d allowed to grow long. 

And who was Bucky to deny himself the absolute joy of kissing Sam Wilson breathless, really?

Sam, to his credit, didn’t flinch, pull away, or slap Bucky across the face, as Bucky’s subconscious was screaming he would. He only angled his head, pushing Bucky back down into the soft Viennese meadow, kissing the other man like breathing was a nonissue and time and place were irrelevant. 

Finally Bucky pulled back, bumping his nose with Sam’s and eliciting a smile from the other man. 

“I am romanticizing the hell out of this moment, I hope you know. Flowers in your hair and all, princess.”

“Well I should hope so. But to be fair, I think I’m more Prince Charming- I did finance this trip, lest you forget, old man.”

“Oh, save it. Besides, one-way tickets are cheaper than round-trip, and I think we’ll get on just fine here.” 

Sam’s grin faded, eyes searching Bucky’s face. Which was not at all reassuring to Bucky, who was now realizing he’d pretty much admitted to Sam “Bro” Wilson that he’d envisioned their life together. 

But then Sam was kissing him breathless again, smiling like an idiot the whole time. 

“You mean it?”

“Uh, yeah, as long as you’re good with it?”

“With you, man, I’m good for anything.”

**Author's Note:**

> ahahahahaha  
> i am not super happy with this one? even tho i did research for it?!   
> agh  
> whatever  
> oh! find me on tumblr! @astaticworld


End file.
